Scientists and Shot Glasses
by kill-kiss-be
Summary: Gwen can't bear to be in her apartment alone after her father's death. Peter keeps her company, and takes in some of the elements of her bedroom.


I wrote this after I read an article on the set design of Gwen Stacy's room, and how Emma Stone suggested little additions like children's books, sporting pennants, and a shot glass collection. I also took to analysing the scenes in her bedroom myself, and noted she had a wonderful poster dedicated to Women of Science. This story is the product of those revelations. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

In the weeks after her father's death, and her eventual reunion with Peter, Gwen can't stand to be alone. Her mother has thrown herself even further into the boys' extracurricular activities, trying to numb her grief through the role of perfect mom. Meanwhile, Gwen struggles to leave the house but for school, because it still smells like her Dad, and it still feels like her Dad, and maybe if she doesn't go anywhere, his presence won't fully disappear, either.

She takes comfort in Peter. He visits her often, when the apartment isn't booming with the boys' laughter, or the cinnamon scents of her mother trying to bake away her emotions. They don't always kiss or cuddle. Sometimes they just lay together. Peter plays with Gwen's hair, fiddling with the soft, silky, strands while Gwen just stares at the ceiling and sighs a lot. They don't always talk. They don't have to.

Sometimes Gwen cries. Not all that often. She got most of that out the first – _no, it wouldn't have been the first day, she was still too numb to it all_ – the second day, when the door didn't open at night when her Dad would ordinarily check in on her after yet another late shift at the station. She'd sworn herself past that tradition – _Daaad, it's after midnight, go to bed, I'm __**fiiine**_ – but the sudden change had struck her blindly and she'd wept herself to sleep that night, so sad, so angry, so **tired**. She hadn't really let herself cry **hard** after that. But sometimes Peter will be tracing patterns over her shoulder while they stare into nothingness, and the sobs will wrack her body without any warning.

One day her family is out – somewhere, soccer, probably – and Peter is walking around Gwen's room, taking in the posters, the sports paraphernalia, the half-filled college applications scattered about her desk. He stops and smiles for a while, and it's enough to get Gwen out of her slump and sitting upright to examine his expression.

"What?"

"I never noticed before. You collect shot glasses?"

"Oh, it's silly… my father…" She clears her throat. "Whenever he would go somewhere for training, for work – or just on vacation and we weren't allowed to go…he'd bring something back. Keyrings or Snowglobes for my brothers, but…I liked the shot glasses. I liked how they lined up neat in a row."

Shaking his head, Peter picks one up and Gwen surprises herself by leaping to her feet. "Please, don't touch them. They're in order, see?" She points out one that has a cheap, touristy design of a palm tree signifying Hawaii, and another with the silhouette of the White House identifying a trip to D.C.

"It's not silly." Peter promises, and retreats from her desk carefully so as not to disturb the neat rows of glasses. He turns to his left and notices, for the first time, the thumbtacked portraits of what he figures are notable scientists on Gwen's corkboard. It makes him smile again, and he just enjoys the moment as Gwen stretches onto her toes so she can rest her chin on his shoulder. "You'll be a great scientist, someday, you know that? I mean, you already are, but you'll really…"

Gwen blushes, because years of being complimented on her academic discipline still haven't given her immunity.

They make their way back to sit on the bed and Gwen won't let go of Peter's hand. She points out a framed print on the wall, bearing the images of _Women of Science. _"He – my dad, he bought me that, the first day that I told him I wanted to be a scientist. It's silly, but I was worried that…well, that maybe he would have wanted something else from me. Something…more girly?" She shakes her head. "But he was so proud. I remember he cried while he hung it up, and I asked him why. And he told me…" And then Gwen's voice is breaking, but she swallows so she can keep going. "He told me he knew the first moment he saw me that the curiosity in my eyes would amount to something... great."

Peter pulls Gwen close, lets her cry against his shirt, and kisses the top of her head after a moment. "You will amount to something great. You already have. And he is proud. And he always will be. How could he not?"

The next time Peter visits he brings Gwen a shot glass decorated with the clichéd_ I Heart NYC_ design, and tells her softly that if she doesn't want to put it with her Dad's collection, it's perfectly okay.

But she does, because some legacies are too rich to let go of, and while pieces of her father will slowly slip away, she can't rid her room of the memory that he still thought of her while he was gone (and, even if it defies every bit of the rational scientist in her, maybe, somewhere, still does.)


End file.
